


The Exchange

by Bijali_Lightning



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Consensual Sex, Dark Gray, Drama & Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Language and violence, Politics and prejudices, References to pregnancy and childbirth, TUE-based spinoff, character injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25479985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bijali_Lightning/pseuds/Bijali_Lightning
Summary: The new King of the Ghost Zone, Dan Phantom, makes a deal with the Red Huntress, Valerie Gray, to secure his reign. If she bears him an heir, then he will never attack a human city again. But the deal is far more than a simple exchange. And both of them know it.
Relationships: Valerie Gray/Dan Phantom
Comments: 16
Kudos: 87
Collections: Wasn't Quite Expecting This (But I Loved It)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all! This is a revised version of an old story I'd once written. But whether it has a plot or has detail that is just a convenient plot device to write smut, remains to be seen, lol.

It began as an off-hand comment, with the infamous Phantom pinning Valerie to the ground in the middle of battle. His red eyes had stared into hers for time, and she’d stared back up at him, no longer fighting. Their chests had heaved together from physical exertion, his long legs straddling her own.

Tendrils of his flickering white hair slipped between them to tickle her dark cheek.

“I’ve a proposition for you,” he breathed, his deep voice a vibration throughout the full of her body.

The armored woman beneath him searched his eyes. “Yeah?”

Lips stretched to reveal sharp, slender fangs. “Ah, perhaps you should not agree before you hear it.”

Her face faulted, and she lightly struggled beneath him in displeasure. But her struggles were not of fear—they had tumbled about many times before. “It’s not an agreement; this is me telling you to explain yourself.”

Long, gloved fingers lightened upon her wrists, where he had pinned her arms over her head. Her vulnerability to him in that moment was—as he knew—little more than a sham. Valerie Gray, the Red Huntress, the Beloved Protector of Amity Park, was so heavily weaponized that she could conjure great power and electrocute him through touch alone. Such attacks had often left him with twitching nerves and pain for several days.

He suspected she tolerated their wrestling because she was quite bored. Like him. Lonely, like him.

There was a dance to such things.

His red-wine eyes searched her own. “I now hold the Crown of Fire and Ring of Rage in my possession,” he declared to her. “Perhaps you have heard of my exploits.”

Valerie looked up at him, eyes narrowed in curiosity. “Yeah, I’ve heard of them. It’s weird you don’t use your new power upgrades on the human plane.” She pouted. “I upgraded my suit for nothing.”

The wind of the Wastelands blew between them. Flickers of his white hair danced between her stiff curls, which trailed in a halo across the dirt.

He leaned in, his aristocratic nose only inches from her own, his lips caught in the gravity well that was Valerie Gray’s presence. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

Her own lips stretched then. “What makes you think you can?”

The ghost’s head tilted. He, in a somewhat dark, fond delight, knocked on the armor of her forearm, which clanked against his hard knuckles. “Your tin shell can handle only so much.” His voice lightened in a sultry way. “I doubt it can withstand the force of ancient generations, whose power first scattered the constellations as we now know them.”

Valerie huffed. Her strong legs suddenly moved up, and she clenched her muscles, twisting. In the blur of the moment, she rolled them. Her sharp, armored fingers slammed down into the dirt, clenching upon his wrists. Her dark curls streamed down her shoulders, her legs straddling him. “I’m pretty sure,” she retorted lightly, raising a brow, “a dinky flaming crown and a king’s ring aren’t gonna ruin my day.”

Beneath her, the powerful being smiled. For all the darkness in him, there was a genuine crinkle of amusement. He liked her on top. “Oh, Valerie. You have no idea what abilities I have. This is why I offer my proposition.”

His cape was a twist of fabric on the ground, its flickering edges lifting up to kiss along her armored leg. The material was little more than an extension of Dan’s own consciousness, and it flickered with his will. The kisses of the fabric hissed against her armor.

The commander swallowed hard, her dark cheeks heating. She could feel his intention riddle through her armor. “…Look, if this has to do with the other day—” She hesitated. “And last Tuesday, and ah—the one before that—” She cleared her throat, her face screwing up in a mix of awkward frustration. “It’s just, in-the-heat-of-battle crap. But I’m not interested in a fuck on the side. You give me enough problems…I don’t need to be dealing with that noise.”

“Oh, Valerie,” he murmured. He shook loose her hand from his strong wrist. He gently grabbed for her chin, holding her gaze. A seriousness overcame him. “My proposition for you is more than a casual fuck. As you may know, I will represent the first king in millennia to hold the throne. There are older ghosts—ancient ones—who feel a line is not secured unless an heir is produced to continue it.”

Valerie blinked, her brows knitting together.

He huffed, his face in a light twist. “And the fact is, Valerie, I’m not fond of anyone like I am fond of you.”

Her limbs tightened. She stiffened upon him, her flush stretching up to the tips of her eyes. She failed to speak, her tongue tying.

His black-gloved fingers slid to her neck, trailing from her chin to her vulnerable neck. “I want you to bear my child.”

Valerie made a strangled noise in the back of her throat. Her armored fingers dug into the dirt. She closed her eyes, damning the way she found herself leaning into his touch. Despite their battles, nothing had wiped away their history—that he had once desired her, and she him. And that now, with his handsome face and deep voice and generally pleasing-looking body, Phantom was a hard man to resist.

And he was not unaffected by her either.

“What?” she asked dumbly.

“I need an heir, Valerie,” he murmured to her, voice straining, breaking her thoughts. “I’m willing to offer you anything you desire in return. For I will not mix myself with a lesser being.”

That inspired her to reclaim her tongue. But her voice was halted in a mix of emotions, a flush still stretching everywhere beneath her suit. “I thought you hated humans.”

He retorted in a light deadpan, “For all of your particularly human weaknesses that remain, I find you…very attractive.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Why me?”

His gloved fingers trailed to the collar of her armor, then lower, tracing her collar bones. His eyes did not leave hers. She did not stop his lazy explorations. “You know why.” A dark mischief stretched his wide mouth. “Though I admit, I am in part enamored by the prospect of what our children would be like. My great power—your enduring spirit—”

Valerie’s face twisted. “Oh, please.” She grabbed onto his hand and pulled it away. “You ghosts and all of your stupid lineage crap. It’s dumb.”

“You’re blushing,” he declared. “I can hear the pounding of your heart and the increased hitch of your breath.”

“It’s _dumb_ ,” she said again.

His eyes were focused upon hers. “Then why did your pupils dilate at the prospect?” he demanded, his sharp fangs glimmering from his smile. “Admit it, Valerie, dear. In ten years, we’ve come quite a long way. Our empires are great. We rule our worlds. But you tire of your own isolation. The benefits of spreading your legs for me would not be one-sided.”

She froze on top of him.

Fingers, which had razed entire cities, rose up to stroke her heated cheek. “You desire intimacy. But no one could understand you as well as I do. And you know it.”

Valerie’s breath hitched. “You don’t know that.”

Red eyes narrowed. “No?” he challenged lightly. “Tell me, Valerie—when was the last time you felt truly at home in your own little bubble? With your bubble people, in their own little safe and happy cities, hmm?” His voice softened, dark. “You like danger. And I _am_ danger, which is why you crave me, especially when you are alone. It is why you seek the Wastelands, even when I am tired of war.”

Her heart began to race harder. Her splayed thighs over his hips trembled. Suddenly, the position felt even more intimate than before.

“What other man,” he murmured, gently grabbing onto one of her curls, inspecting its texture, “can inspire your heart to beat as it does for me? And what man has no fear of a woman as powerful as you?” His finger twisted around the curl. “I’ve seen and heard them. You are untouchable to your own kind. You have transcended them as if you were a god. They _fear_ intimacy with a woman like you. They fear your anger, and your passions.”

Valerie swallowed down hard emotion, her face cracking in a vulnerable way. Phantom had an awful habit of knowing weaknesses of hers—weaknesses she often didn’t know she had. “You’re just blowing smoke.”

“And you, Red Huntress, are caught between two worlds.” His eyes were steady, his own alien pupils dilated in desire for her. “I can give you what you want. A position of power. Intimacy.” His fingers slipped from her curl. “But I need an heir to complete my reign and establish an empire.”

The day was warm and sunny, but Valerie chilled beneath her armor, her skin goose-bumping hard in…in desire? Was she actually considering this? Her voice strained in a mix of hilarity. She pulled away from him entirely, her body tense. “You know I don’t care about empires. I don’t want any part in that kind of shit.” Her face twisted. “I don’t even like kids. I don’t like marriage.” Her armored hands began to spark with power in warning. “I don’t like any of it.” 

“Hn.” The being turned on his side, propping up his head with a hand, quirking a brow. He fell silent for a time, his sharp face shadowed by a simple, merry frustration. “Do not lie to me.”

Her eyes narrowed.

He leaned closer. “I see through you,” he murmured. “You like your little pedestal. You do not fear hunger or poverty as you once did, and it is because you accept resources and worship from those beneath you. You say you hate empires, but you already have one. And you are its queen.”

Valerie’s lips downturned. “I didn’t kill anybody to get respect,” she whispered. “I earned every last damn salute, and you know it. But your lands? You took those, and you think it’s okay to shove in and just tell people what to do.”

“You don’t understand,” he argued, his deep voice raising in impassioned frustration. “You ignore the power I would give you to control such things, if you were to give me an heir.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “It sounds to me like you just want a baby farm to secure your crown.”

“On the contrary. I would co-rule with you. You could challenge my edicts in a rite of combat, as you always do.” His eyes crinkled in dark fondness. “At least, on edicts with which we do not already agree.”

“I don’t agree with you on anything,” she deadpanned.

“I’m not so sure.” His free fingers tapped on the ground. “You’re actively considering my proposition, at least. I see it in your eyes.” He hesitated. “And I would…no longer attempt to raze Amity Park or any other human settlement, in exchange for your agreement.” 

It fell silent again between them at that.

It was a significant compromise and limitation on Phantom’s part, to give up his primary hatred in want for a child with her.

“I don’t trust your word on that,” she said, voice halted. “And say I agreed to this shitshow—you’d turn around the instant I couldn’t fight you, and destroy everything.” 

His lips stretched in delight. “I would never turn against you again, if you were to bear my child.”

“Yeah?” she challenged in disbelief. “The existence of pregnant mothers and children sure didn’t stop you from ruining the world before.”

The ghost’s face twitched. He pulled away, gracefully leaning back on the grass, rolling his eyes. He raised up a knee, folding his hands behind his head. Everything in his posture was vulnerable—open to attack. “Must you always crucify me for what I did in the midst of a blackout.”

She huffed in disbelief. “We still have pregnant mothers and children in Amity Park, and I have to spend every Tuesday and Thursday fighting you off from tearing down the shield. You can’t just call what you’ve done ‘a fit of insanity’ when you’re still actively trying to hurt my people.”

His broad shoulders tightened. “That is the thing, Valerie dear.” His red eyes slid to her. “I am a ghost. I cannot undo the forces which drive me for revenge. But I can—” his face twisted—”I can alter them.” 

She raised up on her elbows, her face hard. “How.” 

“If you become one with me,” he confessed, “my own power core would recognize our child’s mixed blood. You disparage ghost lineages and alliances, but there is a reason why a child is so effective in defusing territorial disputes in the Ghost Zone.”

Valerie searched his eyes.

For a brief moment, a weakness flickered across the ghost’s face. “I would not be able to attack the people of my child’s mother.” He moved, daring to move his hand over his power core, which was his ultimate seat of power within him. “My core would identify with the child, who would be half-human. Therefore, its own core would cause an evolution in my own.” He swallowed hard, looking somewhat uncomfortable. “If you bear me an heir, I will inevitably lose my desire to attack humans at all. I will not be _able_ to feel as I do now, for my own power would perceive it as an attack of the self.”

“And—and you’re willing to give that up?” Her voice broke oddly in consternation. “You don’t wanna knock up some ghost girl who thinks you’re hot and feel all cuddly about _her_ people? Why the hell would you willingly give up hating humans?”

The wind swayed between them. His white, flickering hair brushed against his sharp cheeks. “Did I not already explain? I desire you more than I desire anyone else.” His voice grew halted. He reached out to touch her cheek. “For ten years, I have raged in want to _matter_ to this rotten world. With you, I do. I always have. I see this now.” His long, lithe fingers slid down her shoulder, in admiration of the lines of her body. His fingertips moved to trail along the armored curve of her breast, his eyes flickering up to watch her, waiting for a reaction. “And a child of your blood and mine would be… _magnificent_.”

Valerie’s breath hitched. Her dark brows knitted together, and she raised her hand to his wrist. Her armored fingers tightened upon him, but she did not pull him away. Instead, her eyes met his, her face flushing.

This was not the first time that the line between love and hate had blurred between them.

In her darkest fantasies, she’d seen Phantom—had dared to imagine him as the one touching her. His body was the one she felt most at ease with. She knew his hands almost as well as she knew her own, for he was not strange to her anymore. But this was entirely new level of intention. He not only longed to touch her—he longed to _make life_ with her.

That meant…even more than sex—her body swelling with a child—

“I’m,” she said shakily, voice straining, “I need to think about this.”

His gloved thumb caressed the curved of her breastplate. “What is there to think? Bear me an heir, and I will raise your throne as high as my own. I will ensure you are _very_ well compensated for any sacrifice or trouble. Even if you can stand me for only nine months, though I suspect you would desire to remain my queen for much longer.”

She bit her lip. Suddenly, she opened her eyes, which burned with great emotion. “I’m supposed to destroy you. We’re supposed to be enemies. And you can’t be capable of love—not real love.”

“Oh, Valerie.” His hand slipped from the armored plates of her body. He pulled her hand over to his chest, where his power core hummed within him. His lips stretched in a dark way, and he demanded airily, “ _Destroy me_ , then. If I am your enemy.”

Her gauntleted fingers twitched over the hair-raising power that buzzed along her armor.

In that moment, he—arguably the most powerful being between two dimensions—lay vulnerable before her, his ghost-heart bare to her own power. His red eyes stared up at her as he lightly arched his back, offering himself to her with a knowing quirk of his brow.

Her hand hesitated.

And then she recalled her armor up to her wrist, her breath hitching as the nanoparticles sunk beneath her skin. It left her scarred, bare fingers resting against the smooth material of his jumpsuit, the power of his core all the more intimately intertwining within her own energy field.

Valerie hesitated, daring to slide her fingers down, then pulling away from him, the burn of his cool body emblazoned with in her own flesh. “You know it’s complicated.”

Dan’s lips stretched, his fangs glimmering. “Ah, but that’s what makes it so _fun_.” He raised up on his elbows, his face but inches from her own. “There are many ways to subdue an enemy. How about one where we both benefit, hm?”

Her warm breath mixed with the snow of his own—in which for Dan, breathing was a terribly odd habit left over from life. Or perhaps he simulated it purposely, to appear as less different. Less unsettling. Less…unnatural.

Capable of life.

“Think about it tonight while you lay alone in your bed,” he murmured. “I do not know love, but I do know the ways of pleasure. I could give you _everything you have ever wanted_.”

And then suddenly, he dematerialized, leaving one bewildered and half-aroused Valerie Gray sitting by herself in the Wastelands, in awe that she was actively considering his deal. She breathed out air she didn’t know she was holding, looking increasingly flustered.

For a time, she remained stiff, as if in fear that it was all somehow a fever dream, and that Phantom would return to strike her when she wasn’t looking. But no darkness befell her. The sun did not slip behind clouds in any threatening way, and the ghost did not return in dark laughter. She grumped, her voice strangling once more in her throat. “That bastard—going on about kids? Ruling? The hell’s gotten into him?”

But she lowered her bare hand to her armored abdomen, for one brief moment, daring to imagine the strange future that Phantom offered. She conjured an image of herself pregnant with his child, arching in passion in his bed—commanding great forces—leading armies—the ultimate opportunity to live in both worlds, the intimate and the wild…

She damned the way her own body began to burn in delight at even the thought, to be both queen and general—mother and warrior—the singular tamer of the Ravager of Worlds, demanding pleasure from him—

It left her unsettled, to admit even to herself how badly she wanted to say _yes_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the following awesome people for reviewing last time: 
> 
> Gallons_of_the_Stuff: Ahh omg thank you so much for your extended feedback here! I really appreciate it! And I’m excited to be on AO3 too. There are things I like about ff.net, but there’s a lot to love about this archive as well! Yeah, I’ve really been wanting to explore more positive portrayals of the dark gray relationship—not to ignore the problems they have to grapple with, but to have them more on equal terms with each other to start. So I really hope this new version can achieve that in a way that Aftermath just couldn’t by virtue of its premise. Though LOL yeah, you caught me. This is definitely a self-indulgent fanfic, haha. But I really appreciate your kind words—they inspired me to keep going! Thank you for your review and support! 
> 
> DoctorFelixir: Thank you so much for your kind words and your review!! I really love these two characters, so I’m so happy to hear I’m not the only one who loves them haha! 
> 
> starwater09: So good to see you on AO3! Thank you for your review and support on not just this website but on ff.net as well! I really appreciate it! 
> 
> Frotesque: Oh wow, thank you for that high praise! I feel like every chapter is an opportunity for growth and experimentation, so I hope this story and others continue to entertain. But it means so much to have your support, and your review put a big smile on my face. Thank you!
> 
> A_once_and_future_love: Bless, omg, we have found our people, LOL. Dark gray is a small community but definitely enduring! I’m so happy you found me, and I appreciate your review! Thank you for the support! 
> 
> And with review replies complete, we now move into part 2 of this wild experiment, haha...
> 
> Chapter Warnings: Explicit smut toward the end of the chapter!

For several days, the legendary Red Huntress and Ghost Slayer, Valerie Gray patrolled the Wastelands. Her black and red armor glinted in the sun as she flitted between half-fallen skyscrapers and fledging cities that Amity Park had established. Most of the cities had been built after hard-won territory battles against Phantom, who had seethed at the thought of the Wastelands being reclaimed by humans. Such towns had transformed Amity Park into a capital over the American city-states—with Valerie Gray as the great protector.

But that day, on a standard Tuesday afternoon when Phantom would usually attack, all was quiet. High in the clouds, Valerie sighed, kneeling down on her jet sled to sit on it, allowing her armored legs to hang free. Her dark curls slipped down her shoulders, ruffling in the winds. “What the hell?” she whispered in awe.

She was packing enough ammo to shoot Phantom to Jupiter, and for the first time in nearly seven years, he didn’t even show up.

It seemed he was respecting what he’d told her:

_“Think about it.”_

Beneath her armor, and despite the warm summer day, Valerie goose-bumped. She swallowed hard, looking down at the lands that Phantom saw as hers. The town borders were small but glimmered with ghost shields just like Amity Park—the hum in the air like a pleasant heartbeat. Within them were thousands of people, relying on her to make the right decisions…

The best decisions…

_“I could give you everything you have ever wanted.”_

She pressed her full lips together, feeling small and tiny against the great landscape before her. Amity Park’s territories within the Wastelands had begun to grow with grass and wildflowers and shrubbery again. Every square inch of it, she’d given her life and blood to reclaim.

Valerie leaned back on her floating jet sled, closing her eyes to feel the sun on her. She could still feel Dan’s presence around her, his shoulders encompassing hers, his lips inches from her own—

Dan Phantom had once been entirely uncontrollable—without thought. Merely a machine of death.

And yet…

He had been different for many years, exhibiting increasing behavioral changes. Restraint. Exhaustion. Interest in building things. He’d once bartered for a novel to read in exchange for not attacking Amity Park for an entire week.

And now, he was bartering again.

For mutual benefit.

“How the hell am I supposed to tell anyone?” she complained to the air, too high up for anyone to hear. She waved her hand in frustration, and then it flopped back over her armor with a clink. “I know what they’ll say. They’ll say, _what the fuck, Valerie. Don’t do it_.” She paused and added, almost accusatory to the sky, “My own people would stop trusting me. You’d _like_ that, wouldn’t you.” 

But her breath hitched strangely. She leaned on her elbow to sit up, her dark ringlets brushing against her cheek with the action.

She could remember, back when her father had just lost his job—back when she’d been crying alone at lunch because no one loved her without her wealth—that a young boy with the brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen had awkwardly offered her part of his lunch, because he’d watched her buy the discounted lunch. The unmelted ham and cheese lunch with an apple.

The boy had silently offered his entire meal to her, a flush across his pale cheeks. “ _I can hide if you don’t want to be seen with me. Or seen accepting anything from me. I just wanted you to have this because—um—”_ He’d rubbed the back of his neck, pulling at his black hair in a nervous habit. “ _The discount lunch sucks_.”

A raw ache wove through Valerie then, in want for the one soul who had ever genuinely cared.

The soul that still stared at her from within Phantom's demonic and inhuman eyes. 

* * *

It was several days later that Phantom finally returned to the human world. When he did, it was as a dark wisp in the air, his form weaving through the Wastelands to locate Valerie.

Valerie, meanwhile, was at the beach by what was once known as Lake Eerie, the wind blowing through her curls. She hovered on her jet sled, watching on her tracker as the great blip of power that was Phantom continued to move closer to her—though the radius of his power was several times larger than she’d known it. Eventually, she snapped her arm-casing shut and looked up to watch for him. There was a vulnerable line in the crossing of her arms. But she did not carry a weapon, nor did she wear her protective helmet.

Soon, the ghost materialized before her, his dark combat boots sinking into the warm sand of the beach. He stood before her, his dark cape fluttering out like wings. “Hello, Valerie.”

Her eyes trailed over him in a mild curiosity. “You changed your style.”

Phantom’s lips split to reveal shining fangs. “Ah.” He waved a black-gloved hand down at his kingly tunic and shoulder armor. His long finger boasted a ring with a skull engraving on it. Atop his head, he wore what Valerie could assume to be the true Crown of Fire. “I’ve an empire to run now. I must…look the part.”

Damnably, it looked good on him.

She narrowed her eyes.

“Have you considered my proposition?” he called to her, looking down at his ring. Flickers of his white hair kissed his sharp cheeks as the wind blew. To their side, the lake’s small waves crashed against the shore, like a lulling heartbeat.

“I have,” she retorted shortly. She hesitated before she added, “And I got conditions.”

The ghost’s white brow arched. He blurred toward her. His face was inches from her own, his broad and powerful form shadowing the light. “Speak them to me,” he murmured, his breath cold against her face.

This close, she could feel the buzz of his power and the thrum of his power core.

She searched his eyes, then said, voice halted, “One, if you disrespect me in _any way_ , I’m out. And if I have a kid at that point, I’m taking them with me.” She held up another finger, eyes hard. “Two, I don’t care if you feel real love or not—if I actually have a kid for you, then you’re _going_ to love and care for them. I’m not bringing a life into this world just so you can hurt them.”

Even the admission of a child inspired some sort of reaction in the ghost. The pupils of his red eyes dilated. “Go on.”

“Three, you don’t get to control me, or this kid,” she demanded. “I get to see who I want, I get to do what I want, I get to exercise power same as you, and I will take you down if you try anything I don’t like.”

He tilted his head. “I would expect nothing less.” 

She looked up at him, eyes vulnerable. “And four?” She hesitated. “I’m not gonna fake anything to feed your ego.” She swallowed hard before she added, “So if…if you wanna hear your name from my mouth or anything like that, you’re gonna have to _work_ for it.”

His snow breath puffed against her face, his eyes searching her own. His eyes slit in lust. “Oh, Valerie,” he murmured. “You have no idea how much I _want_ to work for it.”

His deep voice inspired a drop somewhere in her belly.

Valerie searched his eyes, her face burning. Her heart pounded in her chest. No doubt, Phantom could hear it with his enhanced senses. “So? You agree to all of that, or are you gonna throw a fit?”

The ghost reached up, daring to gently grab her chin. She did not flinch away from his touch. His long, cool fingers stroked down her dark skin. “I agree to your conditions, Red Huntress.” The use of her title was rare from his lips, but for the first time, it was not riddled in hate.

Instead, his words carried a heat.

“I mean it,” she warned, daring to lean into his touch, her teal eye searching his. “I will end you if you cross me.”

“I’d rather do other things with you.” His fingers slipped from her jaw.

The lake water crashed softly in the background, but Valerie hardly heard it. She pulled away, her cheeks heating. “Yeah. Well.” She didn’t know how to respond, that the infamous Dan Phantom desired her—enough to sin against his own code of scorched earth for her.

His white brows knitted together. He then gazed about in a curiosity. “Where are your legions of human pets, begging you not to spread your legs for me?”

Valerie’s face twitched. “They’re not pets, and they don’t know anything.” She crossed her arms. “I’m not planning to tell them.”

Red-wine eyes flickered back to her. “What?”

“You heard me.”

The ghost paused in increasing consternation. “What then will you say when your body swells with a child? A child with an ecto-signature?” He waved his hand in frustration. “And furthermore, when they hear your name as the Queen of the Ghost Zone?”

Valerie fell silent.

His brow arched. “Unless of course, you intend to leave them permanently, and so their opinion does not matter?”

“I’m not leaving them permanently,” she retorted. Her cheeks reddened. She could not hold his gaze, knowing the implications of the very deal to which she was agreeing. “I just know how they all would act. With this.”

Phantom’s red tracked her, searching her soul. His lips began to split in a dark smile. “You do not trust them anymore than you trust me.”

She made a strangled noise in the back of her throat. “After ten years of you destroying everything, I can’t just waltz up to my people and be like, ‘He wants a kid and maybe so do I, so I’m calling a truce.’”

Those eyes of his seemed to dilate once more, his face tightening in a deep want. “You _do_ desire a child, then? Genuinely?”

She hesitated. Her face screwed up in an odd expression. “I always wanted to be a mom,” she said, voice halting. “You know, have a real family. Ghost hunting never changed that.”

Phantom blurred toward her. His long fingers settled against her waist. “I remember,” he murmured, staring into her eyes. “You’ve only ever had your father.” His deep voice caught in a sultry pout. “Poor, lonely Valerie. The last of the Grays, with no human who would dare to mix with you now.”

“So, um,” she said, stuttering at the closeness—oh, could she feel his attraction for her like this—“I can’t tell them the truth and expect to not get shot or something.”

He leaned in, his lips inches from her own. “If any lay a hand upon you, I will kill them.”

Cold water stormed down her spine. She broke away again, skittish. “Yeah, see, that’s a problem.” Her voice rose in a harsh, hurt retort. “This whole thing is supposed to be about peace. And—and I’d still like my dad to talk to me, so—”

“—Tell them I forced you,” he offered, with a nonchalant wave of his hand. “Another sin to my name, what would it matter.”

Her face faulted. “No,” she snapped, cheeks flushing in consternation. “That would be a lie, and I can’t—” She rubbed her temples in distress. “God, the _looks_ I’d get. I’m not pulling that shit.”

The ghost was beginning to grow frustrated. He declared, “Then your people will despise you the instant you admit you spread your legs willingly for me. The looks you receive will turn from pity to hatred.”

“No.” She raised a finger, eyes hard. “I just…I just gotta play it smart.”

He crossed his arms. His black cape fluttered in the wind, creating shadows around him. “Oh, Valerie. You _are_ playing it smart, by aligning with me. For I will never turn you away.”

Something about his words struck too deeply in her fears. She backed away, her eyes beginning to burn. “I just need time to make them understand.”

“How much?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” she complained. “It could take months. Until I start to show, maybe.”

His handsome face faltered. “You mean to say, you would not stay with me?”

“I can’t just give up all the responsibilities I have here,” she retorted, voice straining hard. “You know? It’s not just you wandering around our territories. I can’t abandon them without a proxy in place. And—and I gotta prove to them that this _is_ the best way forward and that you won’t attack them.”

Dan’s eyes narrowed upon her critically. He did not speak for a time, instead turning away with a curl of frustration upon his lip, bearing a sharp, white fang. He huffed. “Your people,” he snapped. “It is only because of _you_ that any of them still live. They should worship the ground upon which you walk.”

She made a face.

He raised his fingers. “Four months,” he bartered. “No doubt, you will begin to show by then. After that, I would have you at my castle in the Ghost Zone, to bear my child and ascend as the Queen.”

Something about his words made the exchange feel all the more real. She swallowed hard, then said, “The queen part and being-with-you part depends on how well this all goes down. And you’re gonna have to get used to the fact that I still have friends and family here. I _need_ to be here.” She crossed her arms. “Not including that I’ve been in the Ghost Zone once, and it’s dark and cold.”

He grumped. “True.” A silence fell between them. He tilted his head with a sigh. “Are you, then, to be the Persephone to my Hades?”

“The who?”

Red eyes rolled. “Oh, Valerie.”

“What?” she demanded, her face twisting with a pout. “It’s not like I have time to watch stuff.”

“ _Read_ ,” he pressed. “It is a mythology that you _read_.” Something almost like affection came over him, mixed with a suffering endurance. “Persephone is the Greek goddess of the underworld, whose marriage to the god of the underworld resulted in the season of winter for humans.” He reached out, affectionately grabbing for one of her ringlet curls that waved in the wind. “She spent a certain part of the year outside the Underworld, and a certain part within it. Your situation reminds me of her.”

Teal, suspicious eyes narrowed in half-play. “And it has nothing to do with calling yourself the god of the underworld, huh.”

His lips split. “Well. That’s a benefit.”

The sun slipped between clouds, darkening the beach around them and enhancing the supernatural glow around Phantom. In the darkness, his otherworldliness stretched out as if he were a star.

He added to her in a murmur, “Come to me in the Ghost Zone. Our child will not be conceived on anything less than a royal bed.”

Valerie’s heated flush swept over the full of her, stretching below her armor and up to the tips of her ears.

It was real.

All of it was real.

She swallowed hard, then turned away. “Yeah,” she said, voice halting. “But not until Thursday. That’s when you usually come to wreck stuff, so I’ll have an excuse to...be gone then.”

His presence behind her was a buzz down her spine. She could feel his aura in great waves around her, closing in as he moved to her. His deep voice was a murmur against the shell of her ear. “You will not regret it.” And then long, lithe fingers brushed aside the curls of her hair to reveal the junction of Valerie’s neck armor and the ports where her helmet usually connected. 

And then he was gone—a black wisp in the wind, dematerializing until Valerie hovered by herself.

She turned around on her jet sled, face hard in irritation. “Dammit, will you stop doing that? The winding me up and disappearing part? That’s just annoying.”

Suddenly, the black mist reappeared.

The next thing Valerie knew, Phantom reached out to the back of her neck, his fingers cupping her. He pressed his lips against her own, the wind flickering his hair between her loose curls. Valerie stiffened, her eyes widening.

And then—

_Oh._

Fire spread from her mouth to her skull and then straight down to her belly. She made a noise against his mouth, feeling herself relax into the kiss—in want of it.

Dan’s lips stretched against her own lightly before he pulled away briefly, licking his bottom lip with his tongue. It was split like the tongue of a snake.

And then he leaned forward and licked her cheek.

She squeaked, pulling back in surprise, her full lips dropping open. “Ah—!” She instinctively reached for a blaster on her hip, pulling it out.

And then he was gone again.

Valerie held her blaster’s barrel where Dan’s chest once was, her breath still hitched in a mix of hilarity and disgust. Her dark cheek shined with his spit. “You’re so _gross_ ,” she strangled out. “Ugh.” And then she made a show of wiping her cheek.

But the action made her skin chill in a strange way.

She wondered what that tongue could do if—

She squeezed her eyes shut and then re-holstered her blaster with a huff and another blush. “I don’t even know how to get to your stupid castle,” she muttered under her breath. “Makin’ me work for _you_ at this point.”

And then she looked down at her hip and saw a piece of paper fitted into her belt.

Valerie’s dark brows knitted together, and she grabbed onto it, realizing that it was a map directly to the Ghost King’s castle.

And her face faulted in amusement and irritation.

* * *

By the time Thursday morning arrived, one slightly anxious Valerie found herself storming through the Ghost Zone. Her red and black armor shined green with the glow of death, but her living heart pounded. “God.” She narrowed her eyes at the map in consternation. “This place is a mess. What the hell sort of kingdom is this, anyway?”

Tendrils of latent green mist slipped through her curls, and she waved it off, wrinkling her nose.

The Zone mists had an uncanny ability to act much like Phantom’s cape—partially sentient, nosy, and annoying. Most people assumed that the alternate world was far too nightmarish for even Valerie to survive, but the reality was that she simply disliked the realm’s curiosity in her and the way it seemed that eyes were always watching.

Her assumption was that the mists were a compilation of weak wills that could not form into a body. Impulses and emotions—no doubt, a means through which new spirits formed. Like stars. 

The primordial mists returned, slipping around her ankles with a curiosity about her armor.

She triggered the jet sled to storm forward, her brow still crinkled as she slipped between dark canyons and several floating doors—the homes of Ghost Zone’s more compliant inhabitants. She slowed her jets slightly to avoid spinning them off into new coordinates.

This mysterious castle of the Ghost King supposedly had existed for at least a thousand years—however long it had been that Pariah Dark first manifested in the Zone and declared himself king over all ghosts. It rested in the heart of the Zone, near the core that so connected it to Earth.

Eventually, she saw it.

Dark, high towers loomed across a green-lit sky, stretching up to the heavens in a twist. Many windows gleamed as if with faces, peering out from the black stone of the castle. Several skeletons meandered about the grounds, sweeping aside red dust and washing the stones—until they saw Valerie.

The Ghost Slayer.

Several of the skeleton ghosts began to rattle in fear, sinking down to hide among the dips in the land, or else laying still as best as they could, to appear inanimate.

Valerie’s sharp eyes roved over them, and she sniffed and turned away, recognizing that they were not a threat—just as the majority of the Ghost Zone residents weren’t. In doing so, she missed how many of them breathed out a sigh of relief.

Instead, she gracefully landed from her jet sled, her combat boots crunching hard into the priceless tile of the entryway of the castle. She tilted her head, crossing her arms. Before her, the throne of the Ghost Zone loomed. It was a large stone structure, and it was missing one particular King.

“So where are you?” she complained under her breath, her curls slipping across her armor as she moved forward. Just to potentially anger Phantom, she walked right up and sat on his throne—the throne of ancient kings. Great power.

She could feel it in the stone.

Her sharp, armored fingers ran along the grooves of the stone in curiosity. And as she did so, a very powerful, cold presence suddenly appeared behind her. “Having fun, are we?” came the deep murmur of one Dan Phantom.

Valerie’s eyes widened, and she froze. His white hair flickered into view. She could feel his presence slip closer, his cool, soft lips only inches from her flushed cheek.

He added, his lips stretching to reveal sharp fangs, “The queen assumes her throne.”

She turned to look at him, face faulting. “It’s not like you were here to greet me. And this place is empty. What else was I supposed to do? Build my own waiting room?”

Like this, his nose was near her own. He was leaning on the armrest of the throne, his cape and hair flickering around him in a dark delight. “Only you would dare to usurp my position.” 

Valerie leaned in, quirking a brow. “You promised me a throne of my own.” And then she reached out and poked his stomach. He was hard with muscle. She moved to poke him again, but this time, her hand went through him. “Where’s it at, huh?”

Phantom huffed. He pulled away, the flames of his crown intermixing with his hair. “Oh, Valerie. You said your position as my queen was _probationary only_. But if you must know, I do have a second throne in commission for you at this very moment.” He sniffed. “It is being carved from the stone of the Far Frozen and may take several more days yet.” His red eyes tracked her. “But I would offer you a tour of my castle, so that you may see the wealth and power you have at my side.”

The powerful ghost slayer hummed, Her curls shifted around her shoulders as she leaned forward on the throne, eyes curious. “You’re _actually_ trying to butter me up, aren’t you.”

“I am meeting your conditions,” he murmured, searching her eyes. “So that you may meet mine.”

For a time, it fell silent between them, the pressure between the scant air between them rising. Valerie felt it—that desire he held for her.

“Didn’t take you for being a man of your word,” she whispered.

His eyes narrowed, almost playfully. He bumped his nose against her own. “I told you once I would destroy Amity Park. Have I not attempted to keep my word these last ten years?”

She grabbed for the collar of his fine tunic, expression hardening. “You said you wouldn’t be able to destroy it, after all this. What’s changed?”

The king made a strangled noise, a tic of irritation appearing upon his face. He reached for her hand, prying her armored fingers away. “Oh, Valerie. Nothing has changed. Perhaps you bearing my child means I will not be able to kill humans. But I cannot guarantee that I will not be coarse with them.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “What does ‘coarse’ mean?” 

He tilted his head. White locks flickered around sharp cheeks, slipping in the air to flicker against her own. “I would have them know that they continue to exist not because of their technologies or their defense squads, but because of you.” His lips stretched. “And how you have bewitched me. Which I am certain will wreck your resistance’s sad little dreams that they _matter_.”

“Bewitched?” she deadpanned, but her face had flushed.

He reached out to stroke her warm cheek. “You are the only being in the universe for whom I feel.” His bare, calloused thumb brushed against her bottom lip. “For whom I fear.”

Her eyes raised to his.

In their great histories, she had nearly destroyed him several times, desperately learning new technologies and strategies. There was a reason why the skeleton workers of the castle had shivered in fear at the sight of Valerie Gray—for no mere ghost and no mere mortal had managed to beat Phantom back so solidly, so many times.

Phantom knew, then, that for every touch he bestowed upon Valerie, that it was by her discretion alone.

He’d long lost his understanding of who was the cat and who was the mouse.

Something about that delighted him—that such a frail creature could so transcend reality to strike fear in him. Genuine emotion.

Admiration.

Valerie’s lips quirked in an odd humor against his thumb. And as she sat upon the throne of ghosts, she began to recall her armor. Each panel sunk back into her skin until she appeared fully vulnerable before him, wearing her slim military fatigues. “Can you love what you fear?”

The question—and the removal of her armor—inspired Phantom’s eyes to dilate. “Oh, Valerie.” His deep voice was a strained murmur. A soft echo against the walls. “There is a fine line. After years of fighting, one longs for the very destruction they fear.”

She pressed her lips together, her heart pounding. She dared to reach up to touch his face. Her bare, dark fingers sparked with the power that remained within her blood—the vestiges of her armor. But she did not move to harm him.

Instead, his eyes held her gaze as he leaned into her touch.

“You think I’ll destroy you?” she challenged softly.

His voice strained. “You do not realize the war you wage upon me, even in this moment. But I feel it. And I believe I have waged a war within you as well.”

The tension between them rose higher.

Valerie swallowed hard.

His red eyes were deep and hypnotic. “You desire vulnerability. You tire of the armor that keeps you so isolated. So caged.” His voice dropped to a whisper, his lips inches from her own. “I could release you, in ways no one else dares.”

She felt it then. The hard drop between her legs—that great ache for something she could not name.

He set his forehead against her own. “But you have to let me in first.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Her fingers shook slightly as they slipped from his cheek, the spark of power dying away to reveal her as simply a woman. “I’ve never let anybody in,” she whispered. “I don’t know how.” Even now, she sat with her legs locked tightly together, her back ramrod straight from years of training.

“Admitting a weakness?” he murmured, searching her eyes. “Something the great Valerie Gray cannot do?”

Valerie made a noise in the back of her throat.

Phantom’s lips stretched. “Then you have already begun to let me in. Just as I have let you in and allowed you to sit upon my seat of power.”

There was a beat of silence between them.

Valerie whispered, “Stop beating around why I’m here.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Hn. Then will you electrocute if I were to kiss you now?”

“No,” she whispered. She added in a challenge, "Do it.”

And then he leaned in and captured her lips with his.

It was fire.

Valerie’s entire soul moved in want of it, as if Phantom offered her a missing piece of herself. Her fingers tightened onto the stone armrest as she eased into the kiss, feeling sparks emanate from her mouth to the base of her skull and then down to her spine.

His long, cool fingers slipped behind her neck, tangling into her curls. He stretched her lips open with his own, and she made a noise of interest.

His mouth was cold, like a blast of winter. It inspired goose-bumps across the full of her skin and cool the flush upon her cheeks. But for all the sharpness of his fangs against her, she could feel a terrible humanity to him as well.

Her hand raised to his chest.

Phantom pulled away, eyeing her. His lips remained open slightly, his pupils fully dilated, the red of his irises darker.

Valerie’s fingers ran down the thick, royal fabric of his tunic, to where his power core lay.

It was a deep thrum against her. A vibration of quantum particles and sheer will—so very different from a human heart.

“Come to bed with me,” he murmured, voice halted. “This room can yet be accessed by many.”

Her fingers tightened into the material over his chest. She looked up, eyes vulnerable. This was it.

Valerie searched his eyes. “Okay,” she whispered.

The next thing she knew, Phantom had wrapped his arm around her, blurring them both together through the walls and the air. She made a noise, holding onto him even tighter and squeezing her eyes shut, for she was unused to the feeling of moving through solid objects—or to the mind-twisting sight of careening full speed into a wall.

And then suddenly, the wind stopped, and she opened her eyes to a great room. Spartan in decoration, it boasted simple gold walls and a large, well-made bed with dark sheets. This, she realized, was Phantom’s place of vulnerability. She knew he still carried many human habits, among them the need to sleep to regenerate his power.

Her combat boots hit the tiles lightly along with his own.

He turned to her, his red eyes tight with want. “No one enters this room but me,” he murmured. He raised his fingers to her cheek, which was flushed. “We will not be disturbed here.”

Valerie Gray, the ghost slayer, stood before Phantom—the King of Ghosts. She bit her lip, her body still tingling with the last kiss. “I’m not good,” she said haltingly, “at being vulnerable.” She looked down, awkwardly staring at the buttons of her military fatigues, knowing that she and Phantom both were wearing layers.

So many barriers between them—hiding things…

Phantom tilted up her chin. “Poor Valerie Gray. All the worship you garner in the human world, and yet you fear to be worshipped.” 

She swallowed hard. “And you? You don’t have a problem being naked and—and doing stuff with people?”

His lips stretched. He moved to her, leaning his cheek against her own. “I know what I am to you,” he murmured. “You desire my form even if you cannot seek it for yourself.”

She pulled away, her dark brows crinkling in thought. And then she awkwardly began to pull at her buttons. She huffed. “Well, I’m not _afraid_ of you, if that’s what you’re asking. And if you do anything I don’t like, you know what I can do to—”

“—Valerie,” he cut in, his voice a dry deadpan.

She looked up, her eyes wide and vulnerable.

Phantom set his forehead against her own. His long fingers wrapped around hers, lowering them from the buttons of her military fatigues. He bridged the gap between them, pressing his lips against hers, his white brows knitting together fervently to offer her a testimony of his attraction to her. The distraction worked. Valerie’s breath hitched at the feeling. Her lips hesitated against his own before she tentatively moved against him as well, vulnerably following his lead.

That sharp ache rose back in her. She grabbed onto his strong forearms, her bare fingers tightening into the soft material of his tunic. And a thrill of danger stormed through her. These were the lips of her enemy. The hands of the most dangerous being in the universe.

In the midst of increasing kisses, he grabbed onto her hips, stroking the lines of her curves. Her fingers instinctively moved to weave into his hair, curious of its silky texture. 

His hair tie unraveled. White hair spilled down his shoulders and around her hands, and it was the first unraveling of the ghost king, inspiring him to pull away, his lips still dropped open from their kisses.

Valerie stared at him, seeing him for the first time with his hair free. “Oh,” she whispered, breath hitching, voice uneven. Like this, Phantom’s flickering hair framed his face and slipped down his shoulders. He appeared wild, like an elven creature from a fairytale book.

She felt distance with herself, that somehow this being desired her.

His eyes dilated hard, in want for her. He removed his gloves, tossing them aside, and he dared to touch his own mouth in awe.

The next thing either of them knew, they were together, bodies pressing against bodies—her fingers sliding against his chest to feel the thrum of his power, his fingers grabbing for the belt around her waist—

The ache lit into a pure hot fire.

Every tension—every moment of hesitance between them—suddenly came crashing down. Ten years of strange attraction spilled between them.

Large hands tightened upon her thighs, raising her up, spreading her around him.

Valerie grabbed onto him, eyes wide and dilated in increasing desire. She instinctively wrapped her legs around him for stability, breath hitching into his ear at the vulnerability of his position and of hers as their hips jammed together.

The ache tightened again. She needed a friction—something deep inside—

The lines of his male body against her own inspired her to gasp in need, pulling closer to him. His hands held onto her protectively as he moved to lean her back onto his bed.

Valerie flushed face tightened at the feeling of soft sheets against her cheek. She stared up at him, his body fully over hers, his long hair slipping down to tickle her neck.

For a brief moment, he searched her eyes. “Do you desire me like this?” he murmured, voice heavy. “Or do you desire the form that I held in life, which so entranced you to me?” 

And soft rings appeared around him. They stormed down his body, transforming his demonic features into pale human skin and bright blue eyes. His flickering hair straggled down in thick, black locks.

Valerie’s heart squeezed. She reached up, shakily running her fingers down his sharp cheek. “Danny.”

His face twitched, but he turned his face to her fingers, daring to kiss her palm. He shut his blue eyes, a human tongue slipping from his lips to stroke up her love line.

It was the first time in many years he had appeared as human—a small, little spark of the remains of who he had once been.

A raw ache stormed through her. Tears rose to her eyes. She ran her fingers down to his lips, tracing them, which she had once kissed when they were teenagers and without cares as they had now. The blue of his lips had flushed red in a false illusion of living humanity. “Why do you appear like this to me?” she whispered.

Blue eyes—no longer demonic red—opened. His face tightened. “You loved Daniel Fenton.” His one hand held him steady over her, but his other reached up to stroke her cheek. “It is for the sake of this form that you have argued morality to me. I would return him to you for this night. So that you will…” His voice strained— “trust me to take you.”

Valerie’s own bright eyes watered. Her heart stuttered. Her hand slipped down the soft, black facial hair that lined his jaw. Words caught in her throat. His human visage bore scars that he’d never had in life. Most of them had been placed there by Valerie herself. Along his neck was a thin line—a near-deadly scar from one of her blades. Things that he simply could not regenerate upon his true human form.

She dared to run her finger along the scar upon his neck, feeling the rush of ectoplasmic blood within them. “I already know what you really are.” Her voice was rough with emotion. “I know this face isn’t real anymore.” 

He grabbed onto her hand. His own cool body temperature betrayed the realism of his illusion. “You would genuinely make love to your enemy, then?” His blue eyes darkened to purple. His flushed lips turned slightly blue. When he spoke, she caught the gleam of fangs in his mouth. “Conceive a child with a demon?”

It seemed he struggled to maintain his illusion the more genuinely emotional he was.

Valerie hesitated, then eyed him straight. Though their hips were jammed together, her legs were still tight against his sides. She bit her lip, then reached out to touch his heart.

The action spoke words she could not say.

His fingers tightened against her own. Something vulnerable flickered across his handsome face, even as his human features began to bleed back into those of a ghost. His black hair began to flicker up at the ends, the roots shining back to white.

By the time he leaned down to kiss her once more, his skin had darkened to its greenish-blue hue, his ears sharp and elfin. And he kissed her with great emotion, in want for everything that Valerie was to him—past and present.

He rolled his hips against her.

And Valerie gasped against his lips as she felt a cold power sear through her, the feeling dying away as she realized that he’d slipped them both out of their clothing.

Valerie lay beneath him, her eyes dilating hard at the realization that she was naked before him now and that she could feel his desire for her between their connected hips. Her bare chest heaved with a halted breath.

Phantom pulled away, his white hair flickering down his bare, broad shoulders. His lips were dropped open in awe, his fangs glinting slightly in the lights. At the sight of her naked, sprawled beneath him with her curls in a halo about his own sheets, he began to ache even harder, in want to drive himself between her legs.

“Do you want to feel me?” he said, voice rough, halted with a moan. He rolled his hips again in a harsher snap. “To make love with me?”

Valerie gasped, her legs instinctively spreading for him as her back arched. Her eyes rolled up. Her fingers tightened into the sheets of the bed in surprise of how strongly her body reacted to his words. Between her legs, she was aching for him. “Dammit, yes,” she moaned.

She reached up and grabbed for the back of his neck, bringing him down to her, capturing his lips.

The powerful being moaned against her mouth, opening her as he sunk his hips against hers. His free hand slipped along her bare side, caressing her breast, his calloused thumb catching her sensitive, peaked nipple.

Valerie, in that moment, trusted him. The flush of want stretched through the full of her body, and she grabbed onto his bare hip, guiding him into her. The years of loneliness left her in a dizzy, euphoric state that at last— _at last_ —she felt wanted. She felt alive.

Dan leaned his cheek against her own, his breath ragged as he slid into her, little by little, stretching her open with himself. His own red eyes rolled up at the heat of her—her living heartbeat and aura—

His own power core responded in kind, a strong pulsating thrum to mimic her heartbeat.

Valerie’s voice strangled in her throat. She leaned back in an awed daze, her chest heaving with ragged breaths as she lay fully vulnerable, filled with him. It was a strange and wonderful stretch, and he was cool—alien against her. He goose-bumped her skin.

The thrum within him rushed his ectoplasmic blood in an unnatural pattern. It brought a strange flush to his cheeks and down the front of him as he stared down at her.

“Speak to me,” he said, his voice catching. Despite the restrained desire in him, there was a hesitance. “I do not wish to be electrocuted—inside you—”

Her skin felt as if were glowing alongside his own. She tightened her legs against his narrow hips, and her back arched in a desperate attempt to get him to move. “Then keep going.” Something in her confidence faltered. “Please.”

The word _please_ inspired something primal in Dan. His red eyes slit in euphoria, his white hair flickering faster. He adjusted over her, the veins in his strong forearms bulging against tense muscle.

He slowly pulled out of her and then snapped his hips hard, thrusting in.

Valerie saw white, her every nerve-ending lighting up in pure pleasure, her lips dropping open as she jerked beneath him. She tightened her legs around him to hold him deep within her, and her fingers weaved harshly into his hair, digging into his shoulders for leverage. “Holy—fuck.”

One of his hands wandered between them, his long finger expertly pressing in on a sensitive little bud.

Sweat began to bead upon Valerie’s brow as she gave herself over to him, allowing herself to cry out softly in delight of the feeling. Dan Phantom was working her. He was giving her pleasure that no one had ever dared to. And for the first time in ten years, she felt utterly and entirely euphoric. Entirely out of control. Entirely in control.

The destroyer of worlds—focused on her pleasure—

He worked her into a steadier and faster rhythm, thrusting in, his red eyes straining as he watched her face.

"Look at me," he demanded.

Valerie did, staring wide-eyed as she breathed unsteadily, her body jerking beneath his in time with his thrusts.

He stared down at her and at the flush of her cheek. In that second, he felt great and terrible things for her. He did not want to be anywhere but inside of her. "Do you like this?" he asked, voice rough.

Their warm breath mixed between them as her hands—hot like a desert, sweaty—strengthened against his body. "Yes," she whispered.

He then thrust into her again, and a gasp of pure elation and painful desire escaped her. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to feel him again and again—that this was the most whole she had ever felt, after years of boyfriends lying to get her family’s money…other boyfriends deserting her the instant her family lost everything—

—A boy with his lunch, offering her what little he had. Everything he had.

Valerie’s sculpted brows knitted together in concentration, the sweat upon her skin now gleaming just as he glowed. She could feel herself tightening up, clenching harder and harder around him in want for a final release. Every thrust grew more and more painful in the most pleasurable way.

His muscles tightened up as well. They lost speech entirely.

Valerie’s her toes curled, as she arched hard against him, trembling in a disjointed arc. She forgot to breathe. Her body locked hard on his, and she felt it as her senses warped into all-encompassing pleasure.

Dan's handsome face tightened as her instinctive clenching milked him, begging for him to release into her. He grabbed onto her long leg, gently yanking it up to bend her for a deeper penetration. The world around him fizzed, and he strangled out a damning moan with one more coherent thrust, hitting her deep.

And then he let go.

Valerie cried out softly in pleasure, jerking with him as he released into her. Her flushed body tightened further against him, desperate to make the feeling last. The ice cold of his essence swept through somewhere deep within, freezing the sweat on her skin, tinging her lips a near blue.

Dan weakened in awe, his powerful limbs faltering as he leaned against her, skin to skin. He seemed almost overwhelmed in realization of how terribly easy it was to love to Valerie.

To make love to her.

His body, warm with the heat of her own, cleaved to hers in want—as if she were a missing piece of himself. He pressed his lips against her sweaty temple, feeling flushed with her human heat, delighting in way her skin felt against his fangs.

And Valerie held him to her as their ragged breaths mixed together, her skin glowing from his essence within her womb.

For a time, the infamous Ghost Slayer and the Ravage of Worlds said nothing.

But eventually, Valerie moved to sit up on her elbow, her dark curls sliding down her shoulders to hide her breasts. “I wanna do that again,” she breathed haltingly in awe. Her eyes were bright with joy and a mischief that was almost playful. “But this time, I’m on top.”

And Dan looked up at her, and his lips split with a delighted, exhausted smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus I have flailed in shameless smut, haha. I actually feel pretty shaky about my smut writing because it’s not something I typically do write, so although I’ve written for many years, I feel behind the curve in this aspect. And again, this Exchange is still pretty different from its original version, so I’m trying to grapple with obtaining the right tone I want. Anyway, please review with your thoughts, questions, constructive criticisms, or ideas/requests! Happy to consider ideas or what you might like to see. Thank you!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the following awesome people for reviewing last time: 
> 
> Frotesque: Ahhh thank you so much for your very kind and extensive review! I’m really glad you liked that addition of Dan showing her Danny again, and the ways in which smut is presented in this fic. Your support really means a lot! 
> 
> The_last_Dantes: Thank you for reviewing and for your very high praise! I really appreciate your feedback on everything. A lot of this story is pretty experimental and feels like a new space for me. So I’m so happy you’re enjoying it! But gosh, yeah, I think you’re onto something about how well Valerie’s people will handle the news. We might start to see the beginning tendrils of that in this next chapter. Thank you again! 
> 
> Vladisyl: Oh wow, thanks so much for taking a chance on this story and reviewing it! I hope you continue to enjoy it! 
> 
> NikolaiD’Boria2103: Bless! I’m so happy to hear you’re enjoying the political and biological aspects of this crazy story! It might have started off as just as wish to write some Dark Gray smut, lol, but I do hope that it takes on a more complex life. I really appreciate your kind review and your support!
> 
> Also, sorry y’all about the wait for this next chapter. I had lots of real-life stressors going on the last month that kept me from making progress on this story again. And then there’s been drama in some of the other fandoms I write for, and that really ate up my joy for things for a while. But! I’m back! And hoping dark gray fandom didn’t die while I was out, lol.

By that evening, Valerie lay on her stomach, her body tangled in the sheets. Her curls were splayed across the pillows, her dark skin shimmering from the sweat of lovemaking. She breathed in deeply with even, trusting breaths.

The Ghost King Dan Phantom lay propped up on his elbow beside for a time, watching her with an exhausted satisfaction in his eyes, his white hair curling in flames down his shoulders. He reached out and brushed a curl away from Valerie’s cheek.

She made a soft noise—a little grump, turning her face inward on the pillow, unraveling more curls across her bare back.

His blue lips twitched. But then they faltered, his red eyes focusing on a scar across Valerie’s back—one he’d placed there in his insanity years ago. It burned him to stare at it now, inspiring a flush of shame and an unsteady emotion within him.

His fingers fell from her entirely, and he pulled away from her, his white hair straggling against his sharp cheek. Lips pressed together, he stiffly sat up, unraveling the sheets from and grabbing onto on his royal robe. He grimaced with the action, for Valerie had tweaked several muscles in him. It was such that, as he tied his robe over him and slipped off the bed, he limped.

Dan Phantom, Ghost King, Ravager of Worlds, raised his chin, his cheeks flushing as he cinched his robe’s belt. No being in the universe could so tear him down to the mortal plane. Not like Valerie could, for in that moment, he could feel his weakness. He now bore physical weaknesses because of her, the pulse in his very power core yet aching for her—

He raised a hand to his chest unsteadily. His core positively thrummed, down to even the merry flicker of his fire hair around his shoulders.

Red, demonic eyes slid back to the sleeping Valerie. It was as if he had found a missing piece of himself, by becoming one with her. As if they were two parts of a whole, somehow.

The thought did not displease him.

It inspired him to open up his palm, activating his power. His white brows knitted together in concentration. Slowly, green light hardened to diamond, the glow fading. The gem was a small, little thing in his palm. But he knew it was worth thousands beneath the bubble walls of the human cities.

He set the gem down on the bedside table, so that Valerie would see it upon waking up.

He could sense another ghost in proximity, besides.

Dan dematerialized to deal with the problem.

* * *

In the throne room of the castle, a lone citizen of the Ghost Zone waited. Her form was lithe beneath a long, medieval dress, her blond hair pulled back in a thick braid. She carried no belongings, her blue hands clasped tightly before her.

Eventually, Dan materialized slowly upon his throne, clothed in a kingly tunic. His red eyes narrowed in a tired irritation, and he bared a sharp, white fang. “Why have you appeared to me on this day?” He’d not yet bothered to pull back his hair or put on his crown. “I’ve better things to do than listen to the complaints of another sector of the Zone that defies me.”

The princess raised her chin, but her voice wavered. “On the contrary. My brother, King Aragon, desires to ensure an alliance as your most valued vassal. He—accepts your rulership as high king.”

A white brow raised. Dan leaned back in his throne, sitting almost sideways on it a lazy manner. His eyes, however, sharpened. “Is that so?” he murmured. He waved a large hand. “And yet you, his mousy messenger, appear before me with no proof of his tribute.”

The ghost woman was beautiful, with a sweet face and elegant features. They tightened. “I—am King Aragon’s sister, Princess Dorathea. Or Dora, if you wish. He has sent me here as tribute.”

Dan’s white brow flew up even higher. He sat up more stiffly in his throne, his eyes narrowing hard. “I know who you are. But what do you mean that he sent _you_ as tribute?” 

This princess awkwardly reached for a golden amulet that hung from her neck. Her blue fingers shook as one of the few indications of her genuine terror. She could sense she’d upset the king. “If you do not desire me as a concubine, then I can offer services as a powerful soldier. I—”

He slammed his hand against the armrest of the throne.

The ghost woman flinched. The green gem of her amulet caught the light.

“Away with you now,” Dan commanded in sudden disgust and irritation. He ran a hand through his hair, almost in disbelief. His face flushed. “Do not appear to me again, or I will slay your brother’s kingdom for his insolence. For I have taken my Queen and desire no other.”

Her red eyes widened. Her lips dropped open as she back-stepped, in fright. “A Queen?”

“Yes,” he deadpanned dryly. He leaned his cheek in his hand. “You will come to know her soon enough, if you do not already. No doubt, she could destroy you with a single shot.”

The Princess looked greatly disturbed, her pretty face pulling in a mix of utter relief and pain. “I—I cannot return to my brother’s kingdom. For I am tribute to you.”

Dan’s voice sharpened. “I do not accept this tribute.” 

Her fingers tightened against her amulet, as if for strength. For a time, she hesitated, then she said, voice catching, “My brother will snuff out my power core if I prove useless one more time.”

The king rubbed his temples. “Then snuff _him_ out,” he complained in irritation. He stood up, a darkness in him. “I’ve a mind to do it myself.”

Her eyes widened, and she paled. “No, please.” She kneeled upon the tiles of the throne room, her thick braid curling against her legs. She looked to be on the verge of a breakdown. “Please do not lash out against him. If you must punish anyone, then snuff my core here. It would be an honorable end for me.”

Dan’s lip curled up in a snarl as he looked down at her, his eyes lighting up in a hot irritation. His general irritation with the stupidity of his subjects warred with knowing that killing _all_ of his subjects would result in a terribly boring rulership. “Your brother has overruled you and sold you to slaughter at my hand. Why do you kneel for his sake?”

The princess’s voice broke. “Because he is my brother.”

His face twitched darkly. In that moment, the princess reminded him oddly of his own sister, Jazz, who had died long ago—but had loved him deeply despite all of his faults. Dan’s dark gaze flickered to her. He thought of slaying her out of pity—no doubt, this Aragon still treated her as a door mat and had successfully unraveled all of the gains Dora had once tried to fight for. Including, her own self-respect. “You realize your end is worth more to him than your existence.” 

Tears rose to her big eyes. She failed to speak herself, for it seemed the thought had not been alien to her. Her lithe fingers fell from her amulet, and it slipped back against her chest with a dark flicker.

This time, Dan’s eyes caught on the amulet. The more he focused on it, the more he recalled its muted but ancient power. That behind the big, innocent eyes of Princess Dorathea beat the heart of a seething, powerful dragon. “Tell me,” he murmured, calculating, “what happens to your amulet if you are slain?”

The princess paled. She blinked, then admitted haltingly, “As long as I exist, that amulet functions. But—if I fade out, then its power goes to my brother.”

His lips twitched, and he tilted his head. “Ah. _Now_ I see your brother’s design.” He began to walk away, his hair in a dark flicker about him. “I will not snuff your power core, then, if only to frustrate his attempts to accrue power. And I will house you from him, for he will no doubt grow furious that you still exist. But in exchange, you must complete the occasional task for me and my Queen.”

There was a pause. Dora was a powerful ghost, but centuries of abuse had bent the proud lines of her body. Her eyes widened in a mix of hope and fear. “You would protect me? In exchange for what sort of tasks?” 

The King waved his hand, then commanded tiredly, “Go to the Far Frozen and check on the construction of the Queen’s new throne. Stay out of my hair for the next several days, for I’ve little patience with those who cannot fight or think for themselves.” 

There was a pause, and she swallowed hard, her pretty face tightening to hide a wince. Her brother had cruelly punished her _for_ fighting and thinking against him, and bringing their kingdom into the timestream. And yet Phantom was entirely opposite in demands. It left her at a loss.

But this Phantom—for all of his known cruelty and insanity—was also distracted, his eyes often looking up at the ceiling, as if in search for the one he called Queen. No doubt, Dora realized, his muted actions meant that Phantom had engaged in a deep bond with his Queen, as other ghosts did to secure territorial agreements. Such things rewired ghost cores and obsessions—evolved the purpose of their existence.

And already, he showed far more mercy to her than even Aragon did. It made her tentatively dare to hope that perhaps safe places could still exist for her—safe places where she was not slapped or beaten down—

Dora’s thin brows knitted together in curiosity. “I do know the realm of the Far Frozen,” she said softly. “In exchange for your mercies, I will complete your task.”

“Good. Then go.”

She did not question it. She fled, her blond braid whipping around her like a dragon’s tail, her heart a mix of relief—and fear, that she was now truly tied to the Ghost King as a vassal—and great wonder, that Phantom was not the sadistic force of insanity she remembered.

That she still _existed_. And that Phantom had agreed to protect her from her own brother.

Aragon’s raised voice echoed in her ears. “ _You are a curse to me! Look what you have done to our kingdom! Our people revolt, and it is because of **you** and listening to that—that human girl_!”

Her cheek still burned with the slap, her back still carrying scars of claw marks.

And suddenly, her form began to stretch out as she reached the great entrance of the castle, her fingers hardening into dragon claws, her wide eyes slitting as bone and sinew realigned in a quick transformation.

She did not desire to fail Phantom, whatever his orders.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in the king’s quarters, Valerie Gray had woken up, sleepily pulling a bedsheet around her as she stumbled off the mattress. She was in such a pleasant disorientation that for a time, she stood beside the bed, draped in a dark bedsheet, uncertain if it were all a dream. But soon, she felt it. The pull of a muscle in her back. The crumpled clothes on the floor.

The hazy, satisfied exhaustion that she’d had quite the workout—

The soft bedsheet hung about her as she hesitantly stroked her lower abdomen, biting her lip. She and Phantom had made love several times—the withheld passion and loneliness and need leaving them both in awe. For as much as she had spread her legs willingly to him, he had arched against her in deep, vulnerable awe, baring his neck to her. His hands had stroked over her as if she were made of glass.

Her face flamed hot, recalling the sensation of release and how they’d locked together in ecstasy.

The bedsheet twisted between her naked body and her hand as she rubbed her abdomen, wondering if a child had begun to knit itself inside her yet. Surely, one was. She didn’t know how she could _not_ become pregnant after so many times—

It was then that she turned to inspect her surroundings more intently, in search of the washrooms. But a glimmer on the bedside table caught her eye.

She reached out, her nimble fingers slipping around a diamond. “What in the world—?” she murmured to herself. Her voice was still hoarse from love-making. The little, unassuming diamond glimmered in her hand, reflecting blues and reds and greens against her skin. And it had most certainly not existed on that table before she’d fallen asleep…

A dark brow quirked, and she looked at the door with a wry amusement. “Diamonds, huh?”

As if Phantom could hear her, the air about the door began to warp. A powerful energy slid through, materializing before her into sharp, familiar lines. The ghost ran a hand through his unfettered hair, a drama about him. “You do realize,” he complained lightly, “you _are_ a queen now? Is it not an appropriate gift for one?”

A mischief came over her as her fingers clasped around the diamond. “I don’t know. Maybe I like rubies better.”

His red eyes slid to her. “Do you?”

Valerie’s lips split in a huff of a laugh. She moved to set the diamond down back on the table. Her movements were delicate with it—the last time she’d held a diamond, it had been her mother’s wedding ring. “I know you’re just trying to butter me up for something.” She readjusted the bed sheets around her, her dark curls streaming around bare shoulders. She eyed him. “The question is, what.”

The king blurred forward, until his nose was only inches from her own. “Isn’t it obvious.”

She looked up, searching his eyes. Her dark cheeks grew hot again. Her heart pounded a little harder at the proximity between them.

“I have to get back, you know,” she whispered.

He bumped his nose against hers. “But you wish to stay here.”

_Yes._

Valerie still stepped backward, taking the dark bedsheet with her. It scared her, how badly she wanted to lay back on the bed and feel Phantom make love to her again. She swallowed hard. “I don’t even know how long I’ve been here. People will start getting worried that something is wrong.”

His elfin ears flicked, his sharp face catching with an odd emotion. “Nothing is wrong,” he snapped lightly. He pointed his finger at her. “You carry the peace treaty within you, that they will no longer feel my wrath.”

Even now, his own words were losing their fire against humans. His power core could still sense a part of himself in Valerie—and a part of her even upon him. It was enough to cool his usual fury at even the mention of Amity Park.

The woman looked away. She bit her lip, then began to lean down, awkwardly reaching for her military fatigues. “They can’t know about any of this yet. So I gotta play like—normal.” The bedsheet twisted and slipped about her with her movements.

Dan swallowed hard at the sight of her, all the noise inside his mind quieting as he gazed upon her. His eyes caught along the rivers of her long, curly hair.

She held the bunched up clothes in her arms, suddenly looking vulnerable and terribly young. “I don’t even look like we fought.”

He met her gaze, his brows furrowing. In that moment, he felt a great distance with himself—for he could recall his insanities of the past. His face heated oddly, and he bared his lip in a snarl. “What does it matter to your people, if you return without a scratch? I would think they’d be thankful.”

She turned away. “Yeah, but there’s something called keeping up appearances. I gotta, like, roll in some mud or something.”

His snarl faltered into something of consternation. “…Roll in some _mud_?” he deadpanned. He leaned against a nearby wall, arching a brow. “You are to be the mother of my child and the Queen of the Ghost Zone. Why sully yourself for any lesser title?”

Valerie awkwardly moved the bedsheet around herself as she stepped into her military jumpsuit. “Yeah, well. I’m not a Queen yet. And you’ve never had a problem pushing me in the dirt before.”

His elfin ears pulled back against his skull, his face tightening. “As if you were not shooting to destroy me at the time.”

“That’s what I mean,” she complained, awkwardly shimmying pants over her hips. The bedsheet fell away from her shoulders. She turned away, revealing her bare back to him. “I gotta make it look like we were, you know, actually fighting.”

He huffed at her, rolling his eyes. “Please.” But he moved forward, his white hair streaming behind him in an uncurling flame. His form encompassed her own, his cheek brushing against her own.

Valerie paused in her movements, her face flushing as she felt his hands slide along her still-unbuttoned pants.

His deep voice was a vibration against her ear. “We simply had a more…intimate argument.” And then his fingers wove around hers, helping her to snap the buttons into place. “If we were not still fighting, then you would stay with me, without question.”

She leaned back against him, biting her lip. A terrible part of her wanted those fingers to unbutton her. And then she closed her eyes, sighing in defeat. She awkwardly moved to cover her breasts with her arms. “Yeah.”

Dan’s cheek was cool, his facial hair along his jaw soft as he leaned his head against her own. “We could make love again if you stay,” he tempted.

Valerie made a noise of complaint. “I can’t just leave Amity Park for days on end. You’re not the only ghost trying to tear us down.” And then she pulled away entirely, face hot as she reached for her bra, pulling it on.

The king watched her, face in a pout. “What a cruel woman you are—to take me upon a bed and then leave shortly thereafter.”

The bra snapped into place. She wiggled into her military jacket, quickly snapping the front together and turning to give him a light glare. “You knew what you were getting into.” She pulled out her long curls from the collar, and they bounced around her shoulders in a ray of dark light, catching the glow of the Ghost Zone.

Dan’s eyes caught upon the ringlet curls and the angles of them against Valerie’s sharp shoulder. It struck him that perhaps he was genuinely more upset than Valerie about their separation. That for all of their love making, his affections for her were deeper than her affections for him.

His power core—a soft thrum within him—churned unsteadily at the thought.

He was not used to being second-place in someone’s life.

Suddenly, Dan’s fingertips glowed, and he swept his hand across the bare air—splitting it. The air wavered and expanded into a portal, directly to the Wastelands just outside Amity Park. Through the portal boasted the image of a grassy valley, with a few skyscraper beams jutting around trees. “Then go,” he declared. “Tend to your sheep, and return to me in the Wastelands as soon as you can.”

She grabbed for the diamond on table, pocketing it, then pulled up her curls into a sloppy ponytail, quirking a brow. “I think you got some sheep too to worry about.” And smooth, glimmery black and red armor stretched over her body until she stood before him as the one and true Red Huntress. “Unless you wanna lie about the ghost signatures crawling all over this place.”

He grumped.

She walked up, her brilliant eyes searching him. And then they softened. She reached out with her armored fingers, her weaponry all but a thought away.

He did not flinch away but held her gaze.

Hot armor pressed against his chest, just over his power core. Her dark, elegant brows knitted together in a strange awe—for even now, his core fluttered in time with her heartbeat. Just as it had since they had made love.

It was a physical manifestation of the promise that he had made to her. That he would be physically altered by her as much as she would be altered by their union.

“Will this stay?” she whispered. “This…link?”

His long fingers swept over hers. “At rest, yes.”

Valerie swallowed hard. A great emotion came over her, such that her throat tightened. She looked down at herself, her free hand moving to her lower abdomen.

And then suddenly, she pulled away entirely, skittish in realization of how much affection she had for the powerful ghost before her. “Just—stay out of my way until I get things figured out.” She pressed a button on her arm, and her helmet swept over her, locking into place, a dark visor hiding her face entirely until she stood before him, without visual weakness.

She jumped toward the portal, her jet sled materializing beneath her.

And she left him there, watching her from beyond the portal—until even it too vanished with a reluctant wave of his hand.

* * *

Beneath the safe bubble of Amity Park, one father sat before a holographic interface, worried that it was getting dark with no sign of his daughter. “Valerie?” he tried again, pressing the comm button. “Valerie, do you read? Over?”

Just like the last several times, there was static. Damon Gray’s old heart pounded in fear. And then—

“— _Sorry_ ,” crackled in a familiar voice, clipped and sharp. “ _Hit a dead patch on my way out of the Ghost Zone. Can you hear me_?”

He breathed out in relief, his finger falling away from the button. “Thank goodness. Are you safe, sweetie?”

“ _…I’m fine. Phantom was just in one of his moods. Better on his own lands than ours_.”

Phantom had a particularly strange reputation among the humans. His initial insanities ten years ago left a permanent scar in the memory of the human race, such that most feared him greatly. But Valerie had no fear. His moods, as she called them, typically entailed tantrums to the tune of mass devastation—but yet usually few casualties.

Damon apprehensively watched as he waited for Valerie’s red and black form to appear on the horizon beyond the shield—a bright spark against a sunset. “Jasper City successfully repaired its shield towers 4 and 7 while you kept Phantom distracted today. But they still have work to do before they can re-fire their own barrier.”

“ _Oh, don’t worry about that_ ,” Valerie said over the comm. There was a dry tilt of amusement in her voice. “ _I beat that bastard back. He’s gonna be reeling for days_.” 

Soon, the legendary Red Huntress appeared at the shield. But strangely, Damon watched her hover above it, scanning something before she continued to fly forward, typing into the interface on her forearm.

“What did you do to him?” the father asked, his brow furrowing. “This would be the first time you’ve kept him down in the Ghost Zone.”

A strangled noise echoed over the comm as Valerie swept along the skyscrapers. The resistance building loomed.

The large glass doors began to retract, sensing her arrival.

Sleek black and red armor flew in. A faceless, black visor faced her father as she stepped down. Then, she recalled her armor until she stood in the midst of Amity Park, looking as if she’d barely scuffled. Her military uniform was disheveled. “Turns out he’s got a weakness. And I found it.”

But one of the intelligence workers within the room glanced at Valerie, noticing a strange bruise that revealed itself just beneath her slipping collar—

—And their eyes focused upon it in consternation, for the bruise almost seemed like a love bite.

* * *

It was later that evening, after bathing and filing reports and lying extensively regarding the “battle,” Valerie lay in her own bed deep within the living quarters of the resistance. Upon her walls were various medals and old weaponry that had severely injured Dan in the past. She lay on her side, her curls a stream behind her, as she stared at the weapons.

She breathed out, her brow crinkling in a mix of emotion. She turned on her back, staring up at the ceiling—recalling the flash of bare, broad shoulders. Soft, silky fire hair brushing against her cheek—the _fire_ —

Valerie swallowed hard, breath hitching.

Her bed, for the first time, was cold and strange, and she felt as if there was a sudden and immediate lack in her life. Making love to Dan Phantom had changed something innately within her. Now, she knew.

She _knew_ what it was like to connect with someone, even for a brief time.

Her fingers—scarred from many battles—slipped down to her lower abdomen. She closed her eyes, trying to recapture the memory of Phantom’s body encompassing her own, until suddenly she could not.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she whispered in complaint. She pulled the bedsheets off of her, moving to the wall. She reached out, tearing down the old weapons one by one, her face hot.

Her fingers trembled.

Politics and lust had intertwined so deeply into her mind that she struggled to separate them out. Phantom had not lied to her—that he’d desired her. That he would experience innate alterations upon mixing with her.

It meant at a certain point, she would have to uplift her own end of the deal. That she would lay down her weapons against him. Potentially even become Queen, which was a word that hardly made sense to her.

Her eyes slid back to her bedside table, where she’d set the strange little diamond that Phantom had procured for her.

And then, suddenly, something changed. 

Deep within her, a small light began to flicker to life, knitting itself together. And with it, came a unique ecto-signature—

—and _pain_.

Valerie grasped, her eyes blowing wide. The nanoparticles within her blood unsettled within her—their natural anti-ghost mechanisms responding to the lighting of an alien signature. Thought fragmented, for the pain flared in her abdomen but also raced up the full back of her spine to her skull.

The next thing she knew, she was sliding down the wall, disjointedly moving to lean on her hands and knees. Her jaw dropped open as she trembled in pain, her ears ringing. She collapsed in, her shoulder slamming against the tile hard as she wrapped her arms around her middle. “Ah.” Nausea overwhelmed her.

Her cheek leaned against the cold tiles as well, her eyes rolling up and shoulders blurring with red armor that retracted itself. The armor—her closest ally, and at time even intelligent—was attempting to expel the ghost signature within her. The hot, metal panels surged over and under her, storming in a gear-grinding confusion.

Valerie curled in on herself as she trembled. Tears blurred her eyes.

In her desperation to stop the pain, she shakily managed to press a button on her suited forearm. That button then activated an emergency distress beacon within the main headquarters of the resistance, alerting a team on standby that the Red Huntress needed immediate backup support at her location. 

She rasped in an unsteady breath, her armor still blitzing around her. Her pixelated vision began to blink with holographic codes from her intelligent armor, indicating that she had been infected or possessed by a ghost.

Her shaking fingertips slid down to her womb in fear, unable to understand what it all meant.

By the time emergency forces tore down her door, she lay unconscious, her armor still flickering around her as the lines of her body began to glow with an ever-strengthening ecto-signature…with an array pattern that mimicked its father's. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, all! Happy Ectober! So this chapter feels a bit filler-y I suppose, because it’s more “the aftermath” of the dark gray relationship, along with dropping in things that will become significant plot points in a future chapter. That said, I hope it was still enjoyable! 
> 
> By the by, I’m also on tumblr! My main DP/whatever tumblr blog is [here](https://thelightningstreak.tumblr.com/), but I’ve created a more dark-gray-centric blog [here](https://dp-dark-gray.tumblr.com/). Also, there are several other dark gray artists/writers like [Lady Audentium](https://ladyaudentium.tumblr.com/), who so kindly allowed me to use her art to decorate my blog. The dark gray fandom is small but enduring! I hope you get a chance to make yourself at home in it if you discover you like these stories and this admittedly pretty wild ship, lol. 
> 
> I’m hoping during the course of Ectober to upload some dark gray drabbles onto tumblr and maybe also update my more lower-rated dark gray collection on ff.net, [Deliverance](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7683255/1/Deliverance). 
> 
> In the meantime, I’d love to hear your feedback and any requests you have! Thanks again for reading!


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